


Tech Support

by galaatgatsbys



Category: 00Q - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond / Q - Fandom, Q - Fandom, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaatgatsbys/pseuds/galaatgatsbys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After realising just who he finds attractive, there's nothing Bond needs more than to get himself off whilst watching porn. The only problem is his laptop isn't working; A call to tech support is needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tech Support

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first m/m AND first 00Q fic. Please be nice! Any constructive criticism is welcome :)

“Oh for fuck’s sake…”, Bond muttered under his breath.

He had drunk the last of the scotch remaining in the bottle on the table. He was melancholy tonight, as usual. The mission has ended well; the target neutralised, the briefcase safe, the world saved.

Well, everything apart from Bond’s now-sprained arm.

He had flown home from Brussels, debriefed M, handed Q back half of the weapons. 

Walking to the kitchen, he smirked to himself thinking of Q’s exasperated face earlier in the day when he saw the watch, lying on his desk, broken into three pieces and burnt to hell.

“Bond, will you ever learn to not break your toys”, chided Q, in genuine frustration.

“It’s worth their accidental breakage, just to see your incensed reaction”, Bond quipped back to his youthful Quartermaster.

Q didn’t notice Bond’s eyes drifting over his slight form as he picked up the broken gadget and moved it to a box marked “salvage”.

Bond sighed heavily as he opened the 29-year old Speyburn, and poured a triple measure into the heavy-bottomed Galway chrystal glass. It was a gift from M for handling the Skyfall operation with good grace.

He was saving it for a special occasion, but his mind was spinning so much, it was the ideal distraction.

Bond didn’t see this coming at all. He flirted with everyone, equally! Flirting and seduction were his natural state!

He even flirted with Tanner, if it would get him information!

Everyone was fair game and flirting meant nothing.

The six months he had that young, beautiful, svelte techno-geek serving as his Quartermaster had been spent flirting with him just as innocently as any other person in MI6.

Until today.

Something had ‘clicked’ for Bond.

Standing in the kitchen with his left palm massaging his temple, Bond realised the flirting with Q wasn’t just innocent.  
Q had such a boyish charm about him; there was no denying that he was a good-looking, witty and funny boy.

007’s sexual history was comprised of mostly women; had only fucked less than a handful of men, and they were all case-related, in order to attain information.

He had never found himself craving another man in his bed, to feel another man’s cock in his hand, as they both found release in a different way to their usual method of sexual release.

Right.

That was it.

It was a late on a Tuesday evening; the only obvious thing to do was to wank whilst watching porn, imagining Q’s nimble fingers moving over his cock with the elegance with which he skims a keyboard.

“There is nothing wrong with masturbation”, he thought to himself, “I just need to get this out of my system. It’s just post-mission angst”.

It was a complete lie, but it would suffice for now.

He eventually settled himself on the sofa, his refill of Speyburn to hand.

With the laptop turned on, the sound volume up, and the charger plugged in, Bond unbuttoned his shirt, kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his suit trousers and settled on the sofa.

He tried repeatedly to open the web browser, Internet Explorer, to no avail. The program wouldn’t run and the laptop froze completely.

After several minutes of frustration, but before the thought of throwing the laptop across the room, he phoned the MI6 tech support office to see if they had any suggestions.

Once he was patched through to the office, he was struck dumb to hear Q’s voice on the other end of the phone.

“Hello 007, what can tech support do you need”, Q greeted cheerfully.

“Q?”, Bond questioned surprisingly. The moment he thinks about running his right hand through the back Q’s beautiful thick hair as he fucks his ass roughly over his sofa, is the moment he answers the fucking phone. Bloody typical.

“Yes 007, I am in tech support at the minute, what can I do for you?”, came the voice on.

“How did you know it was me calling”, Bond asked incredulously, still trying to make sense of why it was Q answering the phone to him.

“Because we have this new-fangled thing called Caller ID, 007, keep up. The head of tech support went home a while ago and he asked me to drop in a bundle of cat-5 cables before I left. Everyone else in the department has gone home, as I should have now been doing, had I not answered the call of one of the biggest pains of MI6”, Q sassily answered.

“Funny boy, Q. You’re a funny boy. Erm. Yeah. There’s a problem with my laptop. The fucking browser won’t open”, Bond replied, the mask of his usual coolness starting to fit back on properly, his walls of unaffected nonchalance securely back up now.

“You could at least come to me with a complicated problem, 007. You’re not testing my skillset very much”, quipped Q.

“Oh, I’d certainly like to see you use your skillset for my gratification”, the smirk of the field agent, very evident to Q, even when on the phone.

“Now, now, 007. I’m not a wilting flower you can explore with just a few words. Now, press control-alt-delete. Am I okay to remotely access your laptop”, Q questioned.

“That’s fine, Q, as long as you stay away from my porn folders, they’re a bit adult and scary for you”, Bond retorted.

“007, I’m sure I’ve seen worse than the lesbian, threesomes, creampie, double penetration or gloryhole adventure films, that you’ve got stored on there. I am not a teenage boy, despite what you may think of me”, Q stated without any slight touch of emotion

Bond would have been lying if he said hearing those words coming from Q’s mouth wasn’t ridiculously erotic.

Once Q got Bond to install a new browser, and do a few software updates, their monitored call was now redundant of motivation.

“So what are you googling anyway, 007. Surely you’re not on another assignment already?” Q asked gently. 

He knew Bond was going to browse for porn, but somehow hearing Bond talk about watching porn – and inevitably wanking off to it – made Q feel like he could be included.

He had wanted to get on his knees for MI6’s greatest agent since the first time they had met – sitting on that bench in the National Gallery.

Yet, he thought himself to have more class than that. He was not going to be a notch in James Bond’s bedpost.

\--And besides. Everyone knew James Bond wasn’t sexually attracted to men.

Q enjoyed a quiet bisexual lifestyle; having sex with anyone he liked, but since being elevated to being the head of Q branch, his sex life was on hold.

And not just for the fact he didn’t actually find anyone else remotely as attractive as 007.

“Well, I’m currently sitting on my sofa, half-naked, with a very good scotch. What do you think I’ll be using my web browsing for?”, Bond answered, slightly lowering the tone of his voice to sound huskier.

Playing with Q was such fun.

“Well, have a good masturbation session, 007. Don’t forget, you have a weapons testing session in the office at 0930. Enjoy your ladies!”

“Goodnight Q. You should treat yourself to a wank tonight. It’s quite de-stressing”, Bond then chuckled.

“I am well aware of the benefits of masturbation, 007. Goodnight”, Q signed off with a tone of playfulness that sounded new to Bond.

A long, slow sip of Speyburn had Bond’s head reeling.

Once Google loaded, he paused as he typed the words “gay sex twinkie scene”.

Not once in his life had finding videos to masturbate to, make Bond embarrassed.

Yet it was doing now.

After browsing several sites, and several videos, one in particular caught his eye.

The scenario was a blonde well-built teacher ended up sucking and fucking a skinny brown-haired student over a computer desk.

Bond chuckled as he realised how fitting was.

What Q hadn’t told 007 was that, seeing as he was alone in the office, he was going to watch whatever was coming up on 007’s home laptop.

The look of surprise on Q’s face when he realised what Bond was searching for.

The rapture! It mustn’t be just his imagination; there really was subtext below Bond’s flirting.

“Oh fuck”, Q processed, “Bond must want me. This may just happen”. Checking that there was no one in the other offices, or indeed on that floor, Q pushed back a little from the desk, slowly undid his jeans, and waited to see what the video would show.

A light bulb flicked on in Q’s head, when he jumped up from his seat, leant to the computer and activated the microphone on Bond’s laptop, so he could hear 007’s moans and grunts as he came.

A filthy grin set upon the Quartermaster’s face as he started to hear Bond lightly moan.

Bond had placed the laptop on the coffee table, so he could half-lean, half-lie down on the sofa. His left elbow was propped up on the sofa, his hand supporting his head. 

His nails were lightly grazing his scalp, as his right hand already had his throbbing dick out of his trousers and was lightly caressing it with his pre-cum.

The video started. Bond’s dick twitched as he realised how much the younger guy in the video looked like Q. 

It definitely wasn’t him, but it was enough to be visual stimuli, and enough to take Bond into his own imagination, where himself and Q stopped lying to each other and just stopped thinking, and just… fucked.

Bond’s little grunts as he started to build a solid rhythm, watching the young brown-haired male get on his knees and take the older blonde guy’s dick into his mouth, as the other guy told him what a “good boy” he was – that was something Q would never forget.

Q momentarily stopped his own slow rhythmic movements when he heard Bond grunt “Yeah, Q, just like that… fuck… yes”.

“Did James really just say that?!”, Q whispered aloud.

Fuck all caution to the wind, he bent over slightly, and massaged his balls with his left hand, whilst gripping harder and pumping faster with his right.

He had just heard 007 wank himself off whilst imagining he was giving him a blow-job.

Apart from doing it in person, this was the closest thing Q could think of to perfection.

The scene changed to the younger, brown-haired guy being bent over the desk, as the older, blonde guy fucked him roughly from behind. The younger guy was supporting their weight by leaning on the desk, while the older guy had one hand pulling the hair of the younger man, whilst jacking him off.

The scene finished loudly and quickly, in the most typical low-budget porn-style possible.

It only took about 20 seconds after the video finished for the burn in both A and 007’s lower groin to build to a point of sweet pain and utter indescribable tension.

They were both thrusting their hips slightly, their eyes closed, their faces grimaced in concentration of the other’s face.

Q broke first, whispering “yes… yes… oh god… yes”, over and over to himself, as if it were a prayer.

007 came with a force he hadn’t expected. He yelled Q’s name with a bellow, as the pressure inside him became too much.

Both 007 and Q leant back into the chairs they were sitting in, gasping for air, a light sweat having broken out on their bodies.

They were both aware of their hearts racing, and their breaths coming hard and fast.

Bond leant over to the coffee table, taking the glass in his hand. He took the last burning, sweet swig of the scotch as he leant for a tissue, from the tissue box under the table.

It was only then he saw how much he had cum over his chest and abdomen.

“Fuck”, Bond thought, “I have to get him. I have to have him. I don’t care what I have to do”.

Bond leant back, wiping the seminal fluid from his chest, just as he heard his phone buzz.

It was a text message from Q.

“Thanks for the visual stimulation. That was a great wank. See you in the morning. Q.  
P.S. You didn’t tell me to stop manually accessing your laptop, so I didn’t. I was able to see what you were watching…”

Fuck.

Bloody hell, was it was going to be an interesting weapons testing session in the morning.


End file.
